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sparkling despite the lack of direct light in the moments before dawn.
       The smoke from the house's kitchen chimney was a thick white plume that climbed through the still air into the clear dark green-blue sky of predawn. A smaller plume escaped from the chimney at the far end of the house, the one Cerryl thought was the hearth for the mill-master's bedchamber.
       One foot skidded on the packed snow of the path, and Cerryl staggered, trying not to let the bricks slip from under his arm as he tried to catch his balance. He walked uphill carefully, eyes on the slick and icy surface, hands thrust inside the bottom of his jacket. Even the porch steps were slick, with a thin coating of the more recent snowflakes over the ice.
       Cerryl stamped his boots on the porch planks, trying to knock off all the snow, then reached for the boot brush. He could feel his toes jammed against the ends of the boots. He needed new boots, but the nine coppers he had saved wouldn't pay for them.
       Bundled in a heavy leather jacket and leather trousers, Erhana opened the door. “Come on! Breakfast is ready, and you've a lot to do, Da says.”
       Cerryl stepped into the kitchen, letting Erhana close the door. For a moment, he stood there, letting the warmth fill him. Then he walked to the hearth and set the bricks by those brought up by Rinfur. “Thank you,” he said, nodding toward Dyella.
       “Little enough,” answered the millmaster's consort with a smile. “This be going on, and you all sleep in the kitchen.”
       Cerryl slipped onto the middle of the bench, with Rinfur on his left. Viental, once more, had left to see his “sister.” Dylert sat at the end of the table, eating his gruel. On his right sat Erhana, still wrapped in her leather jacket.
       Dyella ladled the steaming gruel into the chipped bowl in front of Cerryl. “Seen your uncle recently? Before the snow, I be meaning,” she asked pleasantly. “Or your aunt?”
       “Aunt Nail, she stopped by coming back from Shandreth's vineyard last fall.” Cerryl took a sip of water from the cracked cup that was his. “I saw Uncle Syodor an eight-day ago, before the snows started. He'd been helping Zylerant raise a barn.” He quickly swallowed some more of the gruel, welcoming the warmth, and took a small bite of the muffin beside his bowl. He held the muffin for a moment, enjoying its warmth on his cold fingers.
       “They see you a lot more regular than some,” observed Dyella, adding another ladle of the hot gruel to Cerryl's bowl.
       “They've been good to me,” said Cerryl. “Good as they could be.” He ignored the glance from Dylert to Erhana, as well as Dyella's raised eyebrows as she glanced at the millmaster. Instead, he concentrated on eating, and before he could finish the last of the porridge in the bowl, Dyella had added more.
       “You be needing this today. No sense in wasting it. Forgot Viental was gone.”
       “Thank you, Dyella.” Cerryl smiled.
       Rinfur cleared his throat. “I best be checking the horses, ser. Extra grain, you think?”
       “Half cup, no more,” said Dylert. “No telling when I can get another barrel. Not in this weather. Can't hardly get to the road, except with the sled, and that's not much for carrying.”
       “Half cup each, that be it.” The teamster stood, stretched, then fastened his jacket and tromped out of the kitchen and onto the porch.
       Erhana, despite the heavy coat, shivered as the chill air washed over her. “Cold out there.”
       “Be thankful you only have to fetch water, child,” said Dyella.
       “I have to get more?”
       “I have to cook, if you want to eat,” pointed out her mother.
       “Mother...”
       Cerryl smothered a grin by looking down at his bowl.
       “Erhana-not another word.”
       Cerryl slowly ate the second bowl of hot gruel, saving the rest of the muffin, but he finished the last bite of the warm muffin all too